


Perchance to Dream

by LittlebutFiery



Series: Academy Days [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Pining, Porn with Feelings, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 11:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15290220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: Since he hooked up with Riza, Jean's been having a hard time keeping his growing feelings in check.





	Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to 1stTimeCaller for beta'ing! You're the best.
> 
> Hope you all have been enjoying this lil series!

“ _ Oh, Jean _ !”

Riza’s cry made Jean moan as well as he thrust into her, their voices and the sound of skin against skin the only noises in the room. She was writhing beneath him, her hands pinned above her head by his as he kissed her.

God, she was divine. Even with her face scrunched up and twisted in pleasure, she was gorgeous, her cheeks red and her golden hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. Jean had seen a lot of beautiful women – seen a lot of beautiful women in  _ this position _ – but none could hold a candle to Riza Hawkeye.

She whimpered again, an incoherent plea for more, and he could feel she was close. He was, too, trying to keep his control as he rocked against her, determined she see her release before him.

“That’s it, Ri,” he breathed in her ear. “God, I love seeing you like this.”

Riza opened her mouth to pant a response, and then…

_ KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK _

Jean startled awake, sitting up quickly, before nearly falling back against the bed as his head spun. He looked down, saw the distinct tent in his ratty boxers, and groaned.

“Jean, hurry your sorry ass up!” Heymans’ muffled voice called through the door. “We need to leave in twenty minutes and I know you didn’t shower before your nap.”

It took all of his self-control to not tell his best friend to fuck off. It was just getting to the good part, and now he was sitting here, rock-hard and horny and pissed-off, his boxers wet with precum.

“Jean?” Heymans demanded, banging on the door again. “You alive in there?”

He sighed, getting up and pulling his door open, carefully keeping his hips behind the door. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Thompson’s birthday party. We said we’d go with Riza and Rebecca,” Heymans said. He checked his watch and sighed. “They’re probably there by now. Get your ass cleaned up so we can head out.”

He seemed to realize something belatedly. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Jean snapped, going to grab his towel and soap from their little cubby.

Heymans raised an eyebrow, not quite buying it, particularly when Jean walked towards the door. The shorter man let out a loud snort, trying and failing to cover it with a cough.

Jean glared at him as he closed the door behind him, beginning to head for the showers. “What’s so funny?”

“Jean, you’re one of my closest friends,” Heymans began, keeping pace with him, and Jean knew he was not in the mood for this.

“I don’t really want to hear your bullshit today,” Jean spat.

“…which is why,” Heymans went on, as though Jean hadn’t spoken, “I’m going to say this.”

Jean stopped walking, crossing his arms and glowering at his friend. Heymans tried to stifle another snort, then a very unmasculine giggle, before choking out, “Fuck, man, you need to get laid.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jean growled.

“Let me guess,” Heymans went on, still barely keeping it together. “Dreaming about dearly beloved Riza?”

Jean was absolutely nowhere close to in the mood for this. “Look, you can piss right off. I’m not having this conversation with you again. You said I need to get cleaned up, let me get cleaned up.”

With this he walked into the shower room, angrily yanking a curtain closed behind him, shedding his boxers, and turning the water on, leaving it on the coldest setting. He really needed to lose this boner before they left, and as painfully cold as the water was, it was the only thing he had time for.

“You know,” Heymans’ voice lilted from somewhere in the room, and Jean had never wanted to strangle anyone so badly. “There are  _ real _ girls who will actually condescend to sleep with you. Don’t know why, but there are.”

Jean sighed. When they came back from break a few months ago, Heymans had asked his friend why he was acting weird, and when Jean was finally goaded into telling him that he slept with Riza, Heymans’ response was...less than desirable.

_ “And I’m the fucking Fuhrer,” Heymans rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. She’s way too smart to let your dick anywhere near her.” _

_ “Honestly, Heymans,” he pleaded. “You think I’d lie about this? I honest-to-goodness slept with Riza Hawkeye.” _

_ Heymans’ face lit up, finally. “Proud of you, pal.” _

_ “Thanks,” Jean replied, swaggering a little. _

_ “I have some big news for you, too,” Heymans went on. _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “Yeah. I’m gonna be a State Alchemist,” Heymans said. He said it with such serious conviction that it took Jean almost a full minute to realize his friend was messing with him. _

_ “You’re a fucking asshole,” Jean scowled _ .

Jean, finishing up with his bar of soap, pulled the curtain back just far enough to see the main room, before lobbing the soap at Heyman’s head. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Heymans grumbled, annoyed, before going on, “Seriously. It’s not healthy. It was funny for a while but now you’re just being pitiful.”

Jean didn’t dignify this with an answer, standing under the cold water for a few more minutes before turning off the water, wrapping the towel around his waist, and storming back to his room.

Heyman’s continued to follow Jean into his room. “Listen, I get that you’ve got the hots for her. I mean, it makes sense. A lot of guys do. But give it up before you get hurt. For both your sakes.”

“Just pick out a fucking outfit for me,” Jean spat. “So I don’t have to hear you tell me I dress like shit.”

Heymans sighed, dutifully turning to Jean’s closet and rummaging through it, as Jean grabbed a clean pair of boxers before drying himself off.

The silence in the room was painful, but Jean didn’t feel like being the bigger man. He knew Heymans’ teasing was meant in a friendly way, and that he would let it go if he knew just how much it truly bothered Jean. And honestly, it first, it hadn’t bothered him beyond being slightly annoying. But now, after  _ months _ of being teasingly called a desperate liar, it was starting to hurt. A lot.

“Here,” Heymans said, thrusting the chosen articles of clothing at Jean. “Get dressed, let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

 

The walk to the bar that the party was at was a long one. They’d made the trek plenty of times, in much worse weather than this – in all honesty it was a very nice evening.

But Jean was adamantly not having the conversation Heymans didn’t seem to want to let drop. So they walked in sullen silence, Jean pointedly refusing to even look at his friend.

Finally, they arrived. Heymans finally got Jean to look at him, saying gently, “At least try to have a good time, okay?”

Jean swallowed his anger and nodded, so Heymans pushed open the door and they headed inside.

The bar was fairly crowded, loud music and laughter filling the room as cadets mingled and drank. A few were dancing, though most were gathered around the various little tables chatting.

Jean caught sight of Rebecca at the bar, waving and beginning to head towards her with Heymans close behind. They were almost there when a raucous voice laughed, “C’mon, Riza, it’s my birthday! How about a kiss for the birthday boy?”

Every muscle in Jean’s body stiffened as he froze. Heymans chuckled, “Looks like you’ve got some competition, bud.”

Behind him, Riza’s patient voice replied, “No, thank you, Alex. I’d be happy to buy you a drink instead.”

“Come  _ onnnnnnn _ ,” Thompson persisted drunkenly. “Just a little kiss!”

“I said no,” Riza’s voice was firmer.

Unable to listen anymore, Jean turned on his heel, trying not to storm up to Riza and Thompson. Riza had backed a step away, her body language tense and uncomfortable, while Thompson was far, far too close to her, smiling like a dumbass. Jean threw an arm around her shoulder, doing his best to look carefree and relaxed, and laughed, “Riza, there you are! Come on, I owe you a round from last time we went out. Gin and tonic, right?”

Riza relaxed into his gentle grip, clearly relieved, and allowed him to steer her to where Heymans and Rebecca sat at the bar. She murmured, “Thank you, Jean. I appreciate that.”

“Of course,” Jean grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

There was something odd about the smile she gave him in return, something that made his stomach do a flip. Rather than thinking about it too hard, he ordered their drinks, waiting with Heymans at the bar while Riza and Rebecca grabbed a vacant table.

“I dunno, man,” Heymans chuckled. “I hear Thompson’s family is loaded. You might’ve pulled her away from a real keeper.”

Jean’s jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. The mere thought of Thompson putting his grubby hands on Riza made him feel nauseous. What kind of guy kept bothering a girl when she said no? No matter how drunk Jean got, he knew better than to harass somebody. That was just shitty.

Mercifully, the bartender set down Riza’s drink and Jean’s beer in front of him, so he quickly grabbed them and headed to the table the girls were at, not waiting for Heymans to get his drink.

Rebecca made a very strange face as Jean sat the gin and tonic in front of Riza, sliding into the booth beside her. It looked…an odd mix of triumphant, excited, and very, very pleased.

“Becca, you’re making that face again,” Riza sighed, as if reading Jean’s mind. “Stop it.”

The brunette had clearly already had several drinks, giggling and swaying as she was. “Mmkay, Ri. Whatever you say.”

Heymans sat down beside Rebecca, his drink in hand, raising an eyebrow at how close Jean sat to Riza. He smirked at Jean and said, “So, Riza, looks like you’ve caught Thompson’s eye.”

She made a faintly disgusted sound. “He’s been bothering me all night. This is why I didn’t want to come.”

Riza shot a glare at Rebecca, who pointedly ignored it, saying, “I mean, at least he’s cute. And rich as fuck.”

Jean grit his teeth, willing himself not to say anything. Relief immediately washed over him as Riza took a sip of her drink and said coolly, “He has the personality of a pig. I’m not interested.”

“That’s kind of an insult to the pig,” Jean joked. Heymans shook his head, rolling his eyes, but Riza laughed a little, so he counted that as a win.

The background music changed and Rebecca lit up, exclaiming, “I love this song! C’mon, Ri, let’s go dance!”

Riza feebly protested that she didn’t dance, but Rebecca grabbed her and dragged her away anyway. When the girls were gone, Heymans scowled, “Little jealous there, Jean?”

“What?” Jean asked, focused instead on finishing his beer as quickly as possible – the bartender had given him the wrong one and it tasted awful, and but he wasn’t going to waste booze he was paying for – while keeping a careful eye on Riza’s drink for her.

“Please don’t get into a pissing contest with Thompson,” Heymans pleaded. “It’s not worth it.”

Jean wanted to argue that Riza was most definitely worth it, but he grinned back innocently and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Alcohol flowed freely as the night went on, bringing flushes to their faces and raucous laughter to their lips. Even Riza made it past her typical two-drink limit, happily sipping on the third gin and tonic Jean brought her.

Jean finished telling a quiet joke to Riza, his hand on her back as he murmured in her ear, Riza giggling at the joke. Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up and the odd look from earlier returned before she giggled, “You two are cute.”

“I beg your pardon?” Riza demanded, blushing.

“You heard me,” Rebecca scowled. “You two are cute together. You should date.”

“Becca,” Jean sighed, feeling his own face going red. He’d been struggling to keep himself in check the whole night; this was the last thing he needed right now.

“I mean you’ve already fucked, so…” Rebecca went on.

A loud, honking snort came from Heyman’s direction, beer shooting out of his nose, before he sputtered and coughed. Jean had never wanted to melt into the floor and die quite as much as in this moment. Beneath his hand on her back, Riza had gone exceedingly tense. She warned, “Becca…”

“Oh come on, Ri, get over it,” Rebecca laughed.

Heymans fixed a shocked look at Havoc. “You motherfucker, why didn’t you tell me?”

“ _ I did _ ,” Jean gritted out. “Multiple times. You said I was a liar.”

Heyman’s completely ignored Jean’s protest, instead turning to Riza. “Riza,  _ honey _ ,” he said gently, like a disappointed father. “You can do so much better.”

“Heymans fucking Breda, I will kill you in your fucking sleep,” Jean spat.

Riza was scarlet, still unable or unwilling to speak. Rebecca took advantage of this to giggle, “So Jean...”

“Yes?” Jean asked warily.

“How big’s your dick? I couldn’t get a straight answer out of Riza,” Rebecca grinned.

Again, beer came shooting out of Heyman’s nose, while Jean felt his heart stop beating entirely. Riza hissed, “Rebecca!”

“What?” Rebecca whined. “I gotta know  _ all _ the details.”

“…I’m gonna go take a leak,” Jean finally managed, desperate to be as far away from Rebecca and Heymans as possible.

He slid out of the booth, all but running to the bathroom. Thankfully it was empty, giving him a few moments with his thoughts.

Well, now the cat was out of the bag. At least Heymans would finally stop telling him he was desperate.

Belatedly, he realized he’d left poor Riza alone with the pair, who was probably hounding her with questions. Shit, he was an asshole.

He washed his hands and headed back out into the bar. His friends had temporarily scattered – Rebecca was wobbling her way to the ladies’ room, Heymans was back at the bar, and Riza was…

…Riza was cornered by Thompson again.

Jean felt another surge of anger rush through him, this time bolstered by four beers and a shot of vodka. God, he wanted to just throw Thompson out of the fucking bar, tell him to fuck off and leave Riza alone.

But Riza was a big girl, and she looked more confident this time, a hard glint in her amber eyes. Jean told himself to calm down and be good, to stop hovering like he was Riza’s boyfriend. She could handle herself, and just because they’d hooked up did not mean he was hers or she was his.

…as nice as that sounded.

God, did that sound nice. Riza Hawkeye being his, him being hers. Dates and holding hands and cuddling and absolutely  _ mind-blowing _ sex…

Too bad it was never going to happen again. Jean sighed, rubbing his face one more time to try awaken himself from the dreamlike images in his mind.

He slid past them to join Heymans at the bar, picking up his beer as he heard Thompson purr, “Damn, Riza. You’re so hot.  _ Please _ give me just one birthday kiss.”

“Jean,” Heymans warned, seeing the look in his eyes.

“No. Nope, no, fuck this, I’m done,” Jean growled. “I’m tired of him coming onto her even after she said no.”

“Seriously, stop,” Heymans persisted. “You’re not her bodyguard, and you’re not her boyfriend. She can handle herself.”

“What I wouldn’t do to get you on your knees,” Thompson simpered on.

“Alright,  _ that’s it! _ ” Jean yelled, turning to face them. His hand was clenched so tightly around his bottle it was in danger of cracking.

Riza jumped, startled by Jean’s outburst, while Thompson turned to him with anger on his face. He sneered, “What, you jealous, Havoc? Well get in fucking line, I got here first.”

“She told you no, so piss off,” Jean growled.

“Awww, are you her bodyguard?” Thompson jeered. “Cute. Fuck off, Havoc, go fuck somebody more your speed.”

“Alex, stop,” Riza snapped. “Leave him alone.”

Thompson laughed. “Ha! She doesn’t even think you can handle yourself! No wonder you can’t keep a girl.”

“I said stop,” Riza insisted, more angrily.

“Oh, can it, Riza,” Thompson waved her off. “The only thing I want to hear out of you is you moaning my name.”

Jean threw his drink down, ignoring the shattering glass, and pushed his sleeves up, storming towards the shorter cadet. He was going to fucking kill him. Nobody talked about a girl like that. Nobody talked about  _ Riza _ like that. Not her. Not his Riza.

“Jean!” Heymans called, scrambling off the barstool and grabbing Jean’s arm. “Fuck, man, don’t do this.”

“I’m tired of listening to you and your fucking bullshit!” Jean yelled, face red with anger. “You’re talking about her like she’s some…some…sex toy!”

“I bet you’d know all about that, huh?” Thompson laughed.

Jean shook off Heymans’ grip and punched Thompson square in the nose, breaking his glasses and sending him flying backwards.

Not even close to satisfied, Jean hauled Thompson up by his collar, holding him off the ground. He hissed, “Listen here, you piece of shit. Apologize to her or I’ll really fuck you up.”

“Jean, stop.”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s your fucking birthday or not. You don’t get to treat anybody like that. You don’t get to treat  _ her _ like that.”

“Jean.”

“So I better not see you say another fucking word to her tonight, or you’re going to be spending the rest of your birthday in the fucking hospital.”

“ _ Jean! _ ”

He stopped, finally realizing that it was Riza who’d been trying to get his attention. She was looking at him with wide eyes, a combination of worry and something else in them. She went on, “Put him down. He’s not worth your time.”

“But…but he,” Jean protested weakly.

“I know,” Riza assured him, offering a small smile. “I’m okay. Put him down.”

Jean obeyed, though he tossed Thompson back to the ground instead of setting him on his feet. Riza was the one leading the pair of them away this time, her hand so soft and gentle on his back.

“I…think maybe you should go home, Jean,” Heymans said as they retreated to their table. “Maybe…sleep this off.”

“Yeah. I should,” Jean agreed through gritted teeth. Every nerve in his body was telling him to go back and finish teaching Thompson a lesson, except for where Riza’s reassuring hand touched. She was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’ll walk him home,” Riza offered.

When Rebecca and Heymans both raised eyebrows, she scowled and said, “He’s drunk and having a rough night. It’ll be better for everyone if someone walks him home, and I doubt either of you two want to leave yet.”

“Fair enough,” Rebecca shrugged.

Jean paid for his tab with the cash he had on him, knowing he was giving the bartender far more than the bill was worth. The bartender scowled, but seemed relieved that Jean was volunteering to leave instead of being dragged out by a bouncer. Jean quickly left, Riza beside him.

The night air was chilly now, their breaths fogging slightly as they walked. They were nearly halfway home before Riza finally spoke.

“Jean, that might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“I…” Jean started to protest. His stomach churned violently, and he felt like he was going to be sick. Wow, he’d really fucked this up. He’d tried to protect Riza, but she could protect herself, and now she was mad at him…

“You should be thankful there weren’t any MPs around, and that Thompson is too vain to admit you beat him up,” Riza went on, a strange emotion in her voice. “You probably would’ve been expelled from the academy.”

“Cadets do stupid shit all the time,” Jean managed weakly.

“Cadets don’t usually start barfights,” Riza scowled. “You assaulted another cadet. That’s grounds for expulsion.”

“What about you, huh? He was harassing you!” Jean protested.

“He didn’t lay a hand on me,” Riza replied coolly. “I didn’t appreciate what he was saying, but he didn’t hurt me.”

“So I was just supposed to stand there and let him say all that disgusting shit about you?” Jean demanded. “Fuck, Riza. I…that’s not how my parents raised me. I don’t let people get away with shit like that.”

“I specifically told you to stop. Why do you think you get to decide for me how I’m treated?” Riza said, as calmly as if she was commenting on the weather. Jean’s heart broke a little at her calm acceptance of bullshit no one should have to endure. “I’m a woman in the army. I’ve learned to tune that kind of stuff out.”

“I care about you too much to just stand back and let that happen,” Jean choked out, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Riza was quiet for a long time, the silence painful. Jean could feel his heart in his throat, desperate for her to say something, anything. He’d royally fucked this up, and he found himself praying that she’d still forgive him.

“…thank you,” Riza finally said, the words barely a whisper.

“What?” Jean asked. He opened the door to the dorms for her, letting her head inside first.

“Thank you. For standing up for me,” Riza replied.

“But…you just said…” Jean choked out, following Riza up the stairs towards his room.

“And I meant what I said. It was incredibly stupid and dangerous for your military career and if you ever do it again I won’t speak to you,” Riza said, a sharp edge returning to her voice. It softened almost immediately as she went on, “…but still. I appreciate it. It…means a lot.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jean replied dumbly.

“I…it…it’s nice to know I have someone in my corner.”

They finally arrived at Jean’s room. He started to reach for his keys, but paused, taking Riza’s small hands in his. “Ri, I might not be good at a lot of things. I might not be smart, or rich, or from a well-known family. But I will  _ always _ be in your corner.”

She blushed, looking away, before she let out a little strangled noise of surprise. Jean looked down, alarmed, and realized what had scared her.

His right hand was absolutely covered in blood.

“You must have cut yourself on Thompson’s glasses,” Riza said, quickly recovering. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

“I have a first aid kit,” Jean said, pulling his keys out with his left hand and fumbling with them. “We can use that.”

Riza took the keys from his unsteady hand, unlocking and opening the door and flicking on the light. “Where’s the kit?”

Jean closed the door behind him and replied, “On my bookshelf, by my textbooks.”

“No wonder you almost failed military history. It looks like you never opened the book,” Riza hummed, amused, as she picked up the kit and headed to where Jean sat on his bed, untying his shoes.

“I did once,” Jean admitted, a cheeky grin on his face.

“…the night I helped you study was the first time you opened the book?” Riza frowned, taking Jean’s hand in hers and beginning to wipe the blood off of it.

“…I mean, I’m not much of a visual learner anyway…” Jean mumbled.

Riza laughed. “Maybe so, but you have to at least see the information to be able to study it.”

“Hey, I did great on that exam,” Jean protested. He winced as Riza rubbed the wound with gauze she’d dipped in alcohol. “I passed the class, too.”

“I seem to recall that you had some help,” Riza smiled, wrapping his hand up, pinning the gauze strips together, and releasing his hand. “Quite a lot, actually.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jean nodded. “She’s funny and smart and beautiful and there’s no one else quite like her.”

Riza blushed crimson. “Jean, stop.”

Though the explosive anger of earlier was gone, Jean still felt heat in his veins, still tensed at the thought of what Thompson had been saying. Riza deserved so much better than that. She deserved the world handed to her on a silver platter, and she just kept getting kicked down over and over again.

“You didn’t deserve any of what he said,” Jean insisted. “You’re so much more than that.”

“I already told you, I’m used to it,” Riza waved him off. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I care about you,” Jean said again. He choked back what he wanted to say and went on instead, “…you’re my best friend.”

Oddly, this made Riza wince and flinch away. Jean asked gently, “What’s wrong?”

“…is that what we are?” Riza managed. “Friends?”

He stood up, trying to get her to look him in the eye, baffled by her comment. He asked, “Ri…what do you mean?”

Riza closed the distance between them, threaded her fingers in his hair, and kissed him.

Oh. That was what she meant.

Jean pulled her closer, crushing her chest against his, his hands tightly gripping her hips. She kissed him harder, deeper, before sucking on his bottom lip, releasing it with the faintest  _ pop _ .

“I know this was supposed to be a one-time thing,” Riza murmured. “But I can’t stop thinking about you…about us. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, but if you want something more…I would too.”

“Riza, just tell me what you want,” Jean begged, hardly believing the words she was saying.

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, voice husky and sensuous, “I want you to make love to me tonight.”

Jean groaned, her words sending shivers down his spine. He whimpered, “Oh, God, Riza…”

Riza nudged a knee between his legs, brushing gently against his rapidly hardening dick. He whined again, fingers tightening around her waist. She purred, “Well, Jean? How about it? Maybe I can show you what I’ve learned.”

He grinned, happy to return to the playful banter. “See? Hands-on,  _ that’s _ the way to study.”

He spun her around so her back was to the bed, pushing her down against the mattress with what he hoped wasn’t too much force. Riza laughed as she bounced against it, before Jean climbed on top of her and hungrily claimed her mouth.

Where she had been gentle, he was rough, the product of too much alcohol and anger and the burning need to show that he was  _ hers _ . He pushed the skirt of her dress up, running a teasing hand between her legs, where she was already wet.

It took him a moment to realize that the fabric of her underwear was completely different than before. It couldn’t be…could it?

Jean nudged her into a sitting position, all but tearing her dress off of her, and moaned at the sight of Riza, Riza Hawkeye, in front of him, wearing a matching set of creamy pink lace underthings.

“Like it?” Riza asked, almost shyly.

“Fuck, Ri,” Jean managed weakly. “I…didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, and then you go and do it anyway.”

“…I hoped you’d like these,” Riza admitted.

Jean had to remind himself how to breathe. Riza had bought those with  _ him in mind? _

More importantly, she’d worn them to the party hoping he’d somehow get to see them? God, holy hell, he didn’t deserve this kind of paradise on earth.

He kissed her again, palming one of her gorgeous breasts, their hips starting an unsteady rhythm against each other. Riza whined, squirming under him, while her fingers shakily attempted to undo his shirt buttons.

“What do you want, Ri?” Jean murmured, pausing his lavishing on her chest to finish unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” Riza said, her voice soft as she pulled him back down to her, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. “I need you, Jean.”

“Riza,” Jean breathed. He braced a hand on either side of her, lowering himself closer, kissing her again.

Her hips strained to meet his, his mouth capturing her breathy moans. Jean moved one of his hands between them, slipping the flimsy lace aside and rubbing a finger against her folds.

Riza’s hips bucked and she cried out, nearly biting his lip as she did so. Jean teased her for a moment, purring, “Damn, Ri, you’re so wet already.”

She palmed him roughly through his pants, earning an undignified croak, and replied, “And you’re hard as a rock. I think we should do something about that, don’t you?”

Jean grinned, pulling his fingers away from her. He regarded them a moment, glistening in the dim light, before taking them in his mouth, cleaning them off. Riza stared, open-mouthed, so Jean laughed, “You know, I forgot to eat dinner.”

Riza paused, raising an eyebrow. “You’re thinking about food now?”

He grinned. “How could I not? You look delicious.”

Jean pushed his pants down and off before climbing back on top of Riza, the only thing between them the practically nonexistent fabric of their underthings. He kissed her again, sweet and hungry, his hips beginning to move in gentle thrusts as he deftly unhooked Riza’s bra.

Riza’s eyes had drifted closed, that beautiful pink blush Jean loved creeping its way up her face. He took one of her breasts in hand again, gently working it, before he lowered his mouth the other.

He had realized, far too late, that he hadn’t spent nearly enough attention on her perfect chest the first time they hooked up, and he had resolved that should the situation ever present itself again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Oh-hh!” Riza cried, jerking with surprise at Jean’s lips around her breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue.

Riza’s outcries were getting louder, more needy, sending a flood of desire through him.  _ He _ was the one that made her feel like that. Him, and no one else. Jean lowered a hand back to Riza’s soaked panties, yanking them down her legs, before sliding a finger inside her.

Her hips bucked again as he moved, quickly adding a second finger. She clutched onto him like a life preserver, overwhelmed by his ministrations.

Finally, she managed to grit out a single coherent word, one that somehow made Jean even harder than he already was.

“ _ Condom _ .”

He reluctantly withdrew his fingers and released her breast, fumbling for the drawer in his nightstand. When he returned to her, package in hand, she pulled it from him as he stripped off his boxers, tearing it open and gently rolling the condom on. Jean trembled at her feather-light touch, dazed by the affection in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Riza,” he breathed again.

“Come here, Jean,” Riza smiled. “Make love to me.”

How could he ever resist anything she asked of him? Jean lowered himself against her, careful not to crush her with his weight, pressing soft kisses up her neck and jaw.

Riza took the initiative this time, a gentle hand positioning him against her entrance, the soft pressure of her fingers divine. Jean claimed her mouth again as he slowly thrust into her, gently moving until he was buried hilt-deep.

Though Riza herself was a woman tough as nails, with formidable walls and façades, Jean loved the paradoxical softness of her body. Her lips, her skin, her body around him, all impossibly soft, and for tonight, all his.

Riza took his face in her hands as he began to move again, her hands so lovingly gentle as she held him so she could kiss him deeper.

This time Riza was quicker on the uptake, less shy about grinding her hips to meet his. Their bodies moved as one, her hips rocking into his thrusts, enjoying the pleasure of the moment, not worried about chasing orgasms. It was as though nothing existed outside them, Riza and Jean, moving together, tangled in each other’s arms.

Riza began to lose her grip first, heat pooling firmly in her belly, whimpers growing louder against Jean’s lips. This orgasm was different than their first time, different than the times she’d come on her fingers, imagining Jean instead. It rolled over her in waves, instead of hitting her sharp like a gunshot, seeming to never end. Jean held her as she sobbed her ecstasy, keeping her afloat as her pleasure threatened to drown her.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her throat as she came down, starting to pull out, before Riza’s grip on his arm stopped him. He frowned, asking, “What?”

“You didn’t come yet,” Riza said.

“No. But you did,” Jean replied, pressing another kiss to her throat. “That’s what matters. Just like last time, I can handle this in the shower.”

“Why?” Riza demanded. “You get the satisfaction of making me come with your body. Why don’t I get the same thing?”

Jean stammered something incoherent, something about not wanting to hurt her, so Riza pulled him back down to her, kissing him quiet before she murmured, “This isn’t about me. This is about  _ us _ . And I don’t think you taking care of it in the shower involves us.”

“God, Riza,” Jean breathed again, locking his lips onto hers, looping an arm under her to hold her tighter to him.

His thrusts were harder now, deeper, as he sought his own release, though his motions didn’t lose the care of earlier.

It didn’t take long until Riza felt his muscles start to contract against hers as he teetered on the edge. A few more thrusts and Jean came with a low groan, buried deeper in her than Riza realized possible. The look of bliss on his face was something Riza knew she’d cherish.

This time, she didn’t stop him when he pulled out, carefully removing the condom, tying it off, and dumping it in his trash can. He collapsed weakly back against the bed, pulling Riza’s back to his chest.

“You’re amazing, Ri,” he managed.

She hugged his strong arms around her. “I love doing this with you.”

“I do too,” Jean smiled, pressing a kiss to the soft spot behind her ear.

“So…are we…” Riza began nervously. “A thing?”

“I still don’t think it would work out between us,” Jean admitted reluctantly. “I’m kind of a fuck-up, and you’re…not.”

Riza was quiet for a long time. “I wish it would.”

“Me too, Ri. But you’re not meant to just be somebody’s fuck-buddy. There’s someone real special out there for you,” Jean said sadly. He wished it could be him, but he knew better than to think that.

“Let’s not think about that,” Riza said after a moment. “I just want to enjoy a little while with you.”

“Stay with me,” Jean pleaded suddenly.

“What?” Riza asked.

“Stay with me tonight. We don’t need to do anything else. I…just want to be with you for a little while,” Jean said.

“I’d like that,” Riza nodded. She relaxed into his embrace, letting him pull her even closer to his chest.

Though she didn’t want to miss a moment, Riza could feel herself starting to drift off to sleep, particularly when Jean pulled the covers up over the pair of them. She struggled to stay awake, until Jean murmured against her hair, “Go to sleep, Riza. I’m not going anywhere.”

He drifted off to sleep shortly after she did, his arms still wrapped tightly around her.

That night, he didn’t dream.

Why would he?

Everything there was to dream about was sound asleep in his arms, snuggled up against him.

Jean Havoc had had a lot of dreams in his life, many good, some bad.

But he’d never had a night of this much contentment, knowing that for once, dreams did come true.


End file.
